


Take a breath and let the rest come easy

by phanjessmagoria



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanjessmagoria/pseuds/phanjessmagoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael huffed a laugh and pushed off of the building, crossing his arms. “Um, only three of us are still nineteen, and I’m turning twenty in like...it’s days, at this point.” He gave Jack a pointed look, as if to prove just how wrong he was. “Days. Basically, I’m twenty. Very adult.”</p><p>“Very,” Jack echoed, the corner of his mouth curling upward and giving his voice a small lilt. They stood in silence for a moment—Jack surreptitiously giving Michael a once-over—before he continued. “Want to head inside?”</p><p>"Yeah,” Michael agreed, not even sure why Jack was asking or what they’d be doing once they were back in the labyrinthine halls in the back of the venue. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, either. Being alone with Jack, no matter the context, was pretty damn high on his bucket list. Well, ok. Maybe the context mattered a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a breath and let the rest come easy

**Author's Note:**

> This is very, very loosely inspired by/based off of [Michael's actual performance with ATL](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLuYPmUZC9A), which is so cute it might kill you, whereas this is so filthy it also might kill you.

Michael didn’t know what the phrase “thank your lucky stars” meant, really, but that’s what he was fucking doing. He was thanking his lucky stars that he had _not_ chosen to wear an All Time Low shirt ironically to the All Time Low concert, because while he’d hoped (and, honestly, sort of expected) to get the chance to hang out with them backstage, he was never actually sure they’d get to, and wearing a shirt of the band you were now friends with, no matter the level of irony, was just a touch on the nose. Because yeah—5 Seconds of Summer were friends with All Time Low and everything, but he had to be realistic: What did a bunch of twenty-somethings want with a group of kids, three of whom weren’t even out of their teens yet?

He’d gone with a blink t-shirt instead because—well, _All Time Low_ , right? He knew it was the right decision when Alex had passed him backstage on his way to soundcheck, and gave him a wink and a thumbs up. Michael was pretty sure that he was having heart palpitations, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with. He’d be fine. Like...probably.

Zack passed by, giving Michael a wave, which didn’t actually help matters at all. He wondered where the fuck the rest of his own band was, because they could at least offer him some moral support before—

Oh, Jesus Christ. God. Buddha. Vishnu. All other available deities. Jack Barakat was coming. He was walking right toward Michael and Michael had nothing to distract him, nothing to do to make it look like he wasn’t just blatantly watching Jack walking toward him, which was going to make things more awkward when Jack looked up on his way to the stage and noticed Michael staring at him, because seriously, why couldn’t he stop staring at Jack _fucking Barakat_ , it wasn’t like he was even doing anything particularly interesting, he was literally just walking down the corridor and _fucking hell_ he was tugging on the collar of his shirt, untangling the cords of his in-ear monitors and Michael really felt like he was going to either have a coronary or pop a boner until he felt a hand clap down onto his shoulder, thoroughly distracting him from the scourge of his adolescence (...and his young adulthood, if he was being honest).

He turned, grateful to whoever this angel was, this miraculous human who had saved him, but instead just found Ashton looking at him with a knowing smirk, Luke and Calum behind him, both clearly amused.

“What the hell?” Michael demanded. If they were going to tease him they could have at least had the decency to wait until he’d already died of Jack Barakat-related causes. Then it wouldn’t matter what they knew or thought they knew, because he’d be dead.

“Hey guys,” Jack said, finally reaching them, and Michael didn’t turn around right away, like he was paying attention to something more important than Jack’s greeting. Except no one in his band had answered his question, so when they all nodded their hellos to Jack, mumbling greetings, Michael looked like he was just stuck two or three seconds behind the rest of them. He looked back at Jack, managing a “Hey” that he wasn’t even sure was heard, because Jack had continued on past them to the stage, joining Alex and Zack.

“You all right, Michael?” Luke asked, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t amused with what just happened.

“Am I all right?” he echoed, mostly because he wasn’t actually sure how to answer that question without revealing how stupidly similar he felt to a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Ok,” Ashton said, suppressing a snicker. “He doesn’t want to talk about it. Hey Rian,” he said as his fellow drummer jogged past to the stage, waving as he did.

“Because there’s nothing to talk about,” Michael said, ignoring the disbelieving looks his band was giving him. “Nothing.”

“Ok, guys,” Calum said, needing to mediate since Ashton, who usually kept them all from going too far, seemed intent on needling Michael. “We all were kinda starstruck when we met them for the first time.”

“The first time,” Luke emphasized. “We’ve known them for a while now.”

Behind Michael, guitars began playing discordantly, none of them really focusing on any particular song, but just making sure everything was hooked up at first.

“I’m allowed to have a moment, _Lucas_ ,” Michael said, needing to flip this over on him because otherwise he would never live this night down, ever.

“Shall we just go watch them soundcheck?” Calum said, stepping forward and turning Michael around bodily, pushing him closer to the stage so they could see better. Jack was closest, his back to them as he fiddled with his guitar strap, and Michael crossed his arms, watching.

“You’re still all jumpy,” Calum said, glancing over his shoulder to check if Ashton and Luke were nearby; they weren’t, at least not that he could see.

“They’re one of my favorite bands,” Michael said—he’d practically idolized these guys when he was younger, so it made sense that he was still a kind of anxious-excited hybrid whenever they got to hang out. He figured he’d get over it someday, but for right now, harboring a crush on Jack (ok, on all of them, really, but Jack seemed like his only viable option) would just have to do.

“Just cool it around them,” Calum said. He really didn’t know why he was bothering. Michael tended to be boisterous edging on obnoxious no matter where they were or who they were around, and any nerves that played into his behavior around All Time Low could probably just be chalked up to that.

“I’m fine,” Michael said, earnest. Calum wasn’t sure he believed it, but he just shrugged and nodded toward the stage, where it looked like they were actually going to play an actual song.

“What do you think they’ll play?” Calum asked. He expected an answer, but when he looked over, Michael appeared to have zoned out at Jack, or maybe Alex. He couldn’t tell from the angle, but either way, he smirked to himself. This was going to be a long night for Michael, he could tell already. He just couldn’t quite place his finger on why.

–

"Why don't you come out during our encore?" Alex had said, and it seemed more innocuous than anything else, like an innocent suggestion that wouldn't end up with Michael on the verge of a very serious medical emergency. "You'd love it, so would the crowd."

Michael had wondered for a moment if someone (Luke, probably) had put Alex up to this, knowing it would be the best experience of his life as well as his cause of death.

"Sure," Michael said, casually, and he actually gave himself credit for how chill he sounded. He didn't get nervous before playing shows anymore; it was more like an acute feeling of excitement that bubbled up from his stomach to his chest and made him feel effervescent, like he could do fucking anything. But since Alex had posed the question after soundcheck, Michael had felt like his limbs weighed fifty pounds each, and while he wanted to ( _really really wanted to_ ) he almost felt like he shouldn't, just for his own health.

But it turned out, no one in his band had put anyone in All Time Low up to it—they’d all seemed genuinely surprised and excited for Michael when he told them, which meant the offer really had come from Alex, just wanting Michael to have fun, to give him an experience he wouldn't get again soon, due to schedule conflicts or clashing tour dates or any other thing that got in the way.

Michael actually couldn’t say how he’d made it through the rest of the afternoon. He'd gotten used to the idea pretty swiftly, and while he was still pretty fucking nervous, he had begun to feel practically giddy. Playing concerts was what he loved doing. It was part of the reason he loved being in a band so much: getting to go on stage night after night and play music.

So getting to go on stage and play music with a band he’d listened to for years, learned their songs by heart just because he could, would be probably one of the best things that had ever happened to him. He was pretty sure he would either explode from sheer joy or just drop dead right on stage. Either wouldn’t be a horrible way to go, because at least he’d be doing something he’d dreamed of doing since 5 Seconds of Summer started gaining popularity.

Watching All Time Low's set from backstage was insane, even though Michael desperately wanted to be on the floor, in the crowd, pressed against all the other kids there to scream along with Alex singing. It had been a long time since he'd gotten to watch a concert from the normal vantage point, and he missed it. Being backstage was sick, but there was something about being part of the crowd of people watching the concert from below the stage that Michael longed for.

He watched the show with Ashton, Luke, and Calum, and after the band left the stage, grabbing bottles of water, towels, waiting for the crowd to get just raucous enough to warrant them returning for their encore, Jack approached Michael. But Michael was already riding his "about to perform" high—nothing could fuck him up now, not even Jack’s attention.

"Hey," Jack said, grinning as he fixed his shirt over his hips; it had ridden up a little after he'd taken off his guitar. "So, we're gonna play a couple songs and then Alex will call you out. Good?"

"Good," Michael repeated, nodding, returning Jack's smile. They were in near darkness, so close to the stage where it was still pitch black, but Michael thought for a moment that he felt Jack's hand ghost over his arm. But that made no sense, because Jack had turned to walk away, and also, why would Jack touch him? The crowd was roaring in his ears, not quite drowning out the sound of his heartbeat rushing in his head, and he had to force himself to believe that Jack hadn't touched him. Because, really, why would Jack touch him?

It was only another moment before four bodies were moving back past him, and the lights came back up, illuminating the stage as the crowd swelled in front of it, rushing forward, surging until countless bodies were pressed against the barricades. 

Luke joined him after a couple minutes, the first song ending and the second beginning; Michael felt his presence more than anything else, because he couldn't hear shit. He looked over and Luke was smirking. He nodded toward the stage and gave Michael a questioning look; was he still going out there?

Michael nodded in response, holding up one finger to indicate it'd probably be another minute, or another song—he didn't actually know. Luke nodded, then turned to look back out at the stage, at Alex singing. Michael followed his gaze until Jack moved toward the edge of the stage, blocking their view of the singer. Luke didn't seem to notice, really, but Michael did. His eyes focused on Jack, and he silently berated himself for playing such serious favorites—like, why have a crush on someone when it won't even pan out? He was so lost in thought he didn't even notice Jack looking back at him until Luke nudged him with his elbow.

Michael looked up at the stage, saw Jack looking over at him, and his heart leapt a tiny little bit, until he realized Alex was looking for him too, and the portion of the crowd that he could see was looking back and forth to either side of the stage, wanting to be the first to spot Michael Clifford, who Alex had clearly just announced. Luke slapped him on the arm and Michael moved forward, into the glaring lights and toward the crowd, toward Jack, who had taken his guitar off and approached Michael. "Use this," he yelled over the shouts and screams of the crowd, then slung it over Michael's shoulder.

Michael just went with it, even as Jack was walking away, crossing the stage to Alex and taking his guitar. No one had told Michael what song to play, or what they'd be doing, and it didn’t seem like any explanation was forthcoming, so he plucked a few strings to the tune of "She's Kinda Hot," and the crowd got at least twice as loud. He looked over his shoulder at Luke, who had been joined by Calum, both of them laughing a little as Michael turned back to Rian, grinning at him.

The words to the song were floating up from the audience, but Jack had gotten Alex's guitar and moved closer to Michael, who switched into another song that he was sure they'd all know: "American Idiot." Jack joined in for a moment, moving closer to Michael, leaning in to him. Michael closed the distance between them, turning his head so his ear was near Jack's mouth—he ignored his heart, skipping some kind of strange beat in his chest—as Jack finally clued him in as to the song they'd be playing.

"'Dear Maria,' yeah?" Jack said, and Michael nodded, changing his grip on the neck of the guitar as he and Jack both turned to Alex, waiting for his cue to begin playing. Alex pulled the microphone out of its stand and looked back at Jack and Michael, who had wandered a little away from Rian, and then over at Zack. Once he'd determined everyone else was ready to play, he took a deep breath and sang into the mic, "I got your picture, I'm coming with you..."

The song burst to life behind him with his band and Michael playing to back him up, the crowd reaching their hands up at him. He grabbed a few, squeezing each one briefly before moving on to the next, almost singing along with their fans rather than singing to them.

Michael and Jack were moving like one to his right, Michael grinning wider than he could remember ever smiling in recent memory, his heart in his throat, feeling sheer joy. Jack watched him as they played together; he thought he knew Michael and the rest of the younger band pretty well by now, but he couldn't remember ever seeing him so happy before. It was pretty endearing, even though he'd never thought to actually consider any of them that way before. Watching Michael play this song, a song Jack and his own band had written together, with such happiness clear on his face, was a little bit overwhelming. Michael was cute as fuck, and where the shit had _that_ thought come from?

Jack hung back a little, playing as Alex sang, the lights going up and shining over the endless sea of people in front of the stage. He couldn't help laughing fondly as Michael ended up right near his microphone, joining in on the chorus with Alex, the song winding down. They'd be slowing the tempo soon, letting Alex round out the final chorus of the song slower, almost crooning the words as the guitars faded to silence. The amps were humming behind them as Michael threw both fists up in the air in triumph, beaming at the crowd as the lights dimmed too. He didn't even know when confetti had been released from the ceiling, but it was raining around him now, and he felt absolutely blissful. Jack removed Alex's guitar and handed it to a tech, sneaking up on Michael and grabbing his sides, causing him to yelp, startled, though Jack nearly didn't hear it over the volume of the crowd.

"How was that?" Jack yelled, but Michael couldn't hear shit, so he just shook his head, confetti falling around them and landing in his hair as he lifted Jack's guitar from his body and handed it to him. Jack didn't want to have either of his hands full, but he held the neck of the guitar as he reached out to Michael with the other, half grabbing his side and half tickling him, both of them gleeful as Alex and Zack joined them; Rian was at the edge of the stage, flipping his drum sticks out into the crowd.

"How was that?" Alex yelled this time, but Michael still couldn't hear them; he assumed that he knew what they were asking, so he just nodded and yelled back "It was fucking great!"

Alex tousled Michael's hair and left the stage once Rian joined them, leaving with him, followed by Zack, Jack and Michael giving a final wave to the crowd as they left the stage too, the fans still yelling for more even though the house lights had come up.

Ashton and Luke were waiting for Michael, pulling him away from Jack as he made to pass them.

"That was fucking sick," Luke said, and Michael could tell he was enthusiastic about it even though half the time Luke spoke in monotone.

"Thanks," Michael said, smiling wide despite himself, as Calum joined them.

"Were you really gonna play 'She's Kinda Hot'?" Ashton asked, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled back at Michael, not really believing that they were, but wanting to entertain the notion anyway.

"No," Michael said, laughing. "I was just screwing around. They didn't tell me it was definitely going to be 'Dear Maria' until I was out there."

"Really?" Luke asked, and Michael nodded.

"Yeah," Michael answered. "I got to play Jack's guitar, did you see?" he continued, shifting his weight from foot to foot, almost entirely unable to stay still.

"Yeah," Calum said, giving Michael a knowing look, a smirk on his lips. Michael pointedly looked away from him, but noticed after his eyes moved to Ashton's face and then to Luke's, that they all appeared to be thinking the same thing.

"Oh, shut it," Michael said, not willing to let his bandmates ruin his good mood.

"Jack and Michael sitting in a tree," Luke began, singsong, and Michael actually reached up to cover Luke's face with his hand, ignoring the laughter from Calum and Ashton as Luke kept trying to speak from beneath Michael's palm, even though his voice was muffled.

"All right, why are you trying to smother Luke?" a voice asked from over Calum's shoulder—Alex was watching with a bemused expression. 

"I have my reasons," Michael said, but he did withdraw his hand. He looked around expectantly, like if Alex was there, Jack wouldn't be too far, but he didn't see him anywhere.

"So, we have this meet and greet to do, but we should hang after. Cool?" Alex said to the four of them; they all nodded and murmured agreements. "Sweet. Later," he said, turning on his heel and walking back down the corridor to join up with the rest of his band to get cleaned up a bit.

"Think they'll let us into the meet and greet?" Michael asked, and Ashton snickered while Luke rolled his eyes.

"You can crash it," Calum said. "If you flash Jack I bet he'd let you in."

Michael's cheeks burned pink and he was immensely glad it was still mostly dark where they were standing. "Shut it."

–

"We're gonna head outside for a couple minutes," Zack said, poking his head into the greenroom. The four boys looked up at the door from where they were situated inside the room—Calum and Ashton were ripping pages out of an empty notebook they'd found and were playing a game of makeshift basketball with a wastepaper bin, Luke was texting, and Michael was—well, he was sitting off in a corner scrolling through Jack's Instagram feed. But he hadn't been for that long. It was only for a second, really, and then Zack had opened the door and Michael had nearly dropped his phone, like he'd been caught jerking off or something. "Want to come with?"

"Yeah," Luke said, standing up and pocketing his phone. Ashton crumpled up one last piece of paper and shot for the basket, missing by an inch.

"Tough break," Calum said, joining Luke and leaving the half-empty notebook behind on the arm of the couch where he'd been sitting. "Sorry I spanked you."

Ashton scoffed, even though he knew Calum had beaten him horribly, something like 12 points to 5. He stood as well, following Calum and Luke toward the door, turning to look for Michael, who joined them after one final glance at his phone (he'd been making completely sure that there was no way anyone could tell what he'd been doing just minutes ago, in case his phone fell into the wrong hands and his passcode wasn't as hard to guess as he hoped).

“You good?” Ashton asked; it was genuine, actually, but Michael rolled his eyes and scoffed before answering, following the group down the corridor toward what he assumed would probably be a door to a parking lot or something.

“Yes,” Michael answered, halfheartedly trying to keep any attitude out of his voice but not quite managing it. “I can be near Jack and keep my shit together, thanks.”

“Dude, chill,” Ashton said—though he smirked a little, doubtful. He’d believe that when he saw it. “No one actually thinks you’re that hard up.” He snickered, though, betraying that statement.

“You guys are such dicks,” Michael insisted, patting his pocket to be sure his phone was securely snug there.

“Yeah, well, why else would you keep us around?” Ashton said, slinging his arm over Michael’s shoulders, tugging him closer as they walked together.

Michael didn’t really have an answer to that that was appropriately cutting, so he just didn’t say anything, because he knew Ashton and the other two meant well. They all teased each other. It was just part of their dynamic.

Zack pushed open a door off the hall with an illuminated “Exit” sign above it, stepping outside into the cool air. A group of fans was present, surrounding Alex, Jack, and Rian, who were talking and taking pictures with them. Zack made his way over to another clutch of them standing around, greeting them. Luke and Calum were hanging back, by the door, so Ashton and Michael stood near them, trying to appear inconspicuous. They formed their own little huddle, but it seemed inevitable that a couple people approached them.

They could never stand outside like this, not at one of their own shows, but this was much more subdued. All Time Low was the main focus, and after they took their pictures and signed the hems of a few shirts, they were left alone. It was getting late, and the crowd was dispersing. Zack and Rian had broken off with Luke and Ashton, talking beneath the floodlights, moths fluttering around above their heads. Michael and Calum were together, leaning against the side of the building underneath lights of their own, moths and other insects cutting patterns through the light and casting too-large shadows onto the pavement, washed out orange.

Calum had nipped back inside to grab his hoodie, shrugging it on once he emerged back into the night air, but he’d really just wanted to retrieve his cigarettes and lighter. He pulled one out of the pack and, as he usually did, offered one to Michael, who shook his head as Calum flicked his lighter.

Michael wrinkled his nose and wordlessly moved to stand on Calum’s other side, upwind.

“Those things’ll kill you!” Jack yelled from across the parking lot; he and Alex were just emerging back into the half-circle of light cast from the building, probably saying goodbye to the last few fans of the night.

“So?” Calum said, taking a drag from the cigarette. “Want one?”

Alex split off from Jack and joined the larger circle; Jack neared Michael and Calum and shrugged like he was considering the cigarette. Michael watched him, taking in the slump of his shoulders as he stuck his hands in his pockets, before Jack answered. “No.”

Michael snickered, amused, as Calum huffed and blew a large cloud of smoke out of his mouth, making a ring with the last bit.

Jack nudged Michael’s foot with his own. “What, you can’t get him to quit those things?”

Michael shrugged much like Jack just had, then shook his head. “He’s got an addictive personality.”

“Speak for yourself,” Calum said, flicking some ash off the end of the cigarette, then stepped around Jack and took off by himself into the dark parking lot.

“He tries to be all mysterious and shit, like he’s walking out into the void,” Michael said, glancing over at Jack from where he was still leaning against the building and gesturing into the parking lot. “But he’s probably just going around the corner.” He laughed a little, to himself, trying not to look stupid, or, well...more stupid than usual.

“You teens and your mood swings,” Jack said, putting on a voice like a haughty old man, snickering quietly.

Michael huffed a laugh and pushed off of the building, crossing his arms. “Um, only three of us are still nineteen, and I’m turning twenty in like...it’s days, at this point.” He gave Jack a pointed look, as if to prove just how wrong he was. “Days. Basically, I’m twenty. Very adult.”

“Very,” Jack echoed, the corner of his mouth curling upward and giving his voice a small lilt. They stood in silence for a moment—Jack surreptitiously giving Michael a once-over—before he continued. “Want to head inside?”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, not even sure why Jack was asking or what they’d be doing once they were back in the labyrinthine halls in the back of the venue. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, either. Being alone with Jack, no matter the context, was pretty damn high on his bucket list. Well, ok. Maybe the context mattered a little.

Without another word, Jack stepped back and Michael followed him, stepping around the door as Jack pulled it open. It creaked a little on its hinges; Ashton turned around to look, as did Luke and Alex, but no one made any move to join them or to even ask where they were going. Michael had a sneaking suspicion that Luke had ratted his juvenile crush out to the entirety of Jack’s band, but maybe that had been the reason everyone had left them alone. Maybe that was why they’d allowed himself and Jack to escape unhindered, letting them be by themselves to do whatever it was they were going to do. Jack liked to wait until the last minute to inform Michael of things, apparently.

They returned to the same stretch of hallway as the greenroom they’d been sitting in earlier; Jack pulled the door open and entered the room, holding the door for Michael, who let it swing shut behind him. He stood by the door as Jack crossed the room, stepping over the wastebasket Ashton and Calum had been playing with before, and settling himself back onto the couch where, Michael didn’t fail to notice, he’d been creeping on Jack’s Instagram earlier that evening.

“You good?” Jack asked, leaning back and lifting his feet up so they were resting on the low table in front of him, accidentally nudging a beer bottle with the sole and knocking it over.

“Yeah,” Michael answered.

“Ok. Because you’re just standing there like, I don’t know. A deer in headlights.”

Michael cleared his throat and walked over, closer to Jack, sitting down beside him on the couch because in his mind, there was no other option, even though there were several other surfaces to sit on in the room. Jack scooted a little bit away from Michael, mostly so that they weren’t right on top of each other to begin with.

“All right,” Jack said, not quite laughing but his tone was amused. “What the fuck’s the matter with you?” He bit the inside of his cheek; maybe he had misread Michael completely? He thought there was some kind of tension between them, and he’d hoped it was the good kind, the kind of intangible tension that turned into very, very palpable friction—like, between their dicks, ideally. But maybe he’d been wrong. He’d been wrong before. But judging by the way Michael had been looking at him all night, he’d really been betting on being right.

“What?” Michael asked, remembering Calum’s instruction to cool it around the older band. “I’m fine.” Jack just wanted to hang out. As friends. They were friends, and he could be totally cool. He didn’t have to let the fact that he wanted to jump this guy’s fucking bones get in the way of friendship. This was exactly how he felt about Luke half the time, and they’d never ended up making out in the greenroom backstage while the rest of their band was outside.

_Holy shit, Clifford. Get it together._

“I kind of just thought,” Jack said, but stopped himself, like he either wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, or even if he wanted to.

“What?” Michael asked, his inflection a bit different this time; less nervous, more inquisitive.

“I don’t know,” Jack continued. “I thought maybe, like, since we’re both ‘very adult’ and shit we could, you know. Take advantage of this room being very empty.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Michael asked immediately, unable to stop himself from saying the words even as his brain was telling him to backpedal, that questioning Jack was a terrible idea and that assuming the worst was going to backfire on him spectacularly. It was just that, like, he’d built this all up in his head and now that it was (apparently?) happening, it didn’t seem real in the slightest. Michael wouldn’t go so far as to say he’d been thinking about this exact scenario for any extended period of time, but it had definitely been on his mind for at least the last two or three hours. So, he’d had plenty of time to figure out exactly how something like this should go, and it sure as hell _didn’t_ begin with Jack asking him what the fuck is the matter with him.

“Uh, no,” Jack replied, trying for a genuine smile, even giving him a self-deprecating laugh. “I could be, though, if you wanted to.” He paused. “Like, literally fucking with you. Not figuratively.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Michael said, unintentionally semi-hostile. Well, now he was just fucking with himself.

_Clifford. Pull yourself together._

“Ok,” Jack said, lowering his feet from the table to the floor, moving to stand up. “I’ll just—” he motioned toward the door and made it halfway off the couch before Michael’s hand was wrapped around his wrist.

Michael could deal with however Jack wanted to do this, he’d decided. So what if it wasn’t how he expected it to go? He’d make that sacrifice in the name of getting the D.

“Or, don’t?” Michael said, and it came out as a question even though he didn’t intend for it to. Jack lowered himself back onto the cushion, turning to look at Michael.

“Don’t what?” he asked, smirking, but laughed after a moment, catching a glimpse of the frown on Michael’s face. “Kidding. I’m staying.” He settled back onto the couch but turned himself just a little to face Michael, who didn’t miss Jack flick his eyes toward the door, just to be sure it was closed, or maybe just because he wanted to make sure it wasn’t about to be flung open.

Michael’s breath hitched in his chest when Jack leaned a bit closer, and he blurted out, “I thought about this for years.”

Jack paused, stopping himself, and then leaned back against the couch again, draping his right arm over the back of it. “Um, ok?”

Michael’s eyes widened comically when he realized how that sounded, and he shook his head, lifting one hand to wave it in the air, like by doing that he could dispel the words already hanging between them. “No, fuck, I meant—playing with you guys, hanging out after a show. I mean—you already knew that, I guess, but...it was cool. That you let me play a song with you.”

Jack laughed good-naturedly, lifting his left hand to run through his hair. He looked down at the couch between them, then back up at Michael. “Sure thing. No problem.”

Michael grinned at Jack, feeling somewhat more comfortable now that he’d gotten that off his chest, and this time, when Jack leaned closer, Michael didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move, not wanting to give off any indication that he wasn’t entirely ok with everything that was happening, even though he wasn’t sure exactly what Jack had meant by taking advantage of the empty room. It could have literally been anything. _Anything_.

But apparently not moving at all gave off the wrong impression too, because Jack stopped again, a few inches from his face. “This is—this is cool, right? Like, you’re ok with this? Because you kind of need to tell me if you’re not.” He laughed.

“What?” Michael squeaked, clearing his throat before speaking again. “No, I am—I am more than ok with this. This is cool. This is beyond cool. This is, like, all kinds of stellar.” He was rambling, but he also couldn’t stop. “Don’t stop,” he said, pausing for the briefest moment, just like in the song, “doing what you’re doing—”

And either Jack recognized the lyrics or just wanted to shut Michael up, because before Michael even registered that Jack’s nose was brushing against his own, their lips were touching and Jack Barakat was kissing him and Michael was pretty positive that he had just ascended to heaven.

 

It took Jack’s right hand moving from the back of the couch to his shoulder to remind him that he should be kissing back, so he did, leaning just a touch closer to Jack and parting his lips. Jack responded by moving his hand from Michael's shoulder to his neck; Michael leaned into the touch and closed his eyes as Jack's tongue swiped over his lower lip. Michael just went with that too, letting Jack deepen the kiss. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on what he was doing, instead of who he was doing it with—that was the important thing. So what if he was getting to make out with one of his idols? He could freak out and permanently commit this to his wank bank later. Right now, he had to focus on seeming like he knew what the fuck he was doing, but Jack had moved on to nosing down Michael's neck, and his stubble made it really obvious that he was kissing a dude, and whenever he thought of that, he remembered just which dude it was, and that started the whole cycle all over again.

He leaned back, pulling away from Jack, who met Michael's eyes and honestly didn't look entirely surprised.

"Y'ok, there, bud?" he asked, conversationally, like they hadn't just been kissing moments ago.

"Yes. But also no," Michael answered.

Jack nodded, a little unsure of what this meant, exactly. 

"I just need a minute," Michael explained, and Jack nodded again. He studied Michael's face, and Michael was acutely aware of Jack watching him; it was almost as though he could feel his gaze like fingertips trailing softly over his skin. Michael felt like he was on fire, but that might have been how embarrassed he was at making Jack wait for him like he was some pubescent kid. He felt the strong, sudden urge to explain himself.

"Do you ever build something up in your head, and then it happens, and you have to try and get used to it happening at all, much less not exactly how you imagined it?" he asked. 

Jack looked up at Michael's face. "Uh, I think so."

"Like," Michael said. "Say, for example, you finally get to kiss someone you've sort of had a crush on." He met Jack's eyes and gave him a pointed look. "Hypothetically speaking, obviously."

Jack snickered, understanding, now—it wasn't at all hypothetical. He probably should have expected this, but he threw Michael a bone anyway. "Obviously."

"Ok, well, something like that totally unrelated kissing example is happening right now. It's pretty unexpected and a little overwhelming, so, I just need, like, ten more seconds to get my groove back."

Jack laughed. "Take twenty seconds."

Michael gave him a grateful look, pressed his palms flat against the tops of his thighs, shook his head, then turned back to Jack. "All right. Now that I fucking shattered the mood in here, let's do this shit."

Jack's expression was amused when he leaned back toward Michael, but when he heard the door creak open without even a warning knock, he pulled away, thoroughly irritated.

Luke's head popped into the room, grinning. "We're heading out to a club for a bit, want to come with?" he asked, before Rian and Ashton pushed past him, moving into the room. Michael tried to turn himself where he was sitting so it didn't look like he was offering his body up to Jack to touch however he pleased.

"I'll pass," Michael said, without even thinking, but after he said it he considered that Jack might want to do that instead; maybe he'd rather go out and drink with his friends and _definitely_ have a good time, instead of hanging back with Michael and probably just having a mediocre one.

But Jack said "Me too," and Michael felt his heart throb in his chest—Jack wanted to stay with him and mess around. What a fucking night.

"Lame," Luke said, and Ashton and Rian scoffed as they followed him back out into the hall—until Ashton leaned back in, holding the door with his shoulder. Michael looked at him expectantly.

"Don't forget to use protection," he said, grinning, and left, leaving Michael's cheeks warm, and Jack snickering.

"Wow, ok. That was just, I mean, I don't even—" Michael began, but Jack cut him off.

"We can go somewhere else, or...I mean, stop, even. I'd rather not but, hey," Jack said. He met Michael's eyes, but Michael shook his head.

"We can definitely go somewhere else. Like, maybe somewhere with a lock on the door."

Jack laughed a little, quiet, then stood up from the couch, turning back to Michael. "I mean, the bus is right outside, and if everyone else went out...we have a few hours to ourselves." He shrugged, but managed to downplay his amusement at how Michael looked both thrilled and terrified at once.

"Bus is good," Michael nodded; he himself had hooked up on a tour bus a few times before, but never when he knew he had an actual, decent amount of time to work with. He was nervous, because a lot of time meant so, so many wonderful and filthy things had the potential to happen, but that made him ecstatic, too.

"Let's go," Jack said, waiting for Michael to stand beside him, and then crossed the room toward the door. They'd left the room messy, but each of them knew better by now than to leave any of their belongings in the greenroom so late after a show—either they'd go missing or simply just be left behind.

Michael followed Jack back out into the corridor, toward the glowing green Exit sign above the door they'd left through before, and then followed him outside after it creaked open. He was relieved to see the area was still deserted, but especially glad that neither of their bands were still around to catch them sneaking off to the bus.

The bus door was locked, but Jack knocked on it and after a moment, it opened, a man who was most likely the driver peering down at them.

"You can clear out for a bit," Jack said. "We're just gonna hang in here, ok?"

"Sure," he replied, trudging down the steps, the loose gravel of the parking lot crunching beneath his boots as he walked past them. "Later, Jack."

As soon as he was around the corner of the building, Jack bolted onto the bus, Michael scurrying after him. They shut the door behind them, heading down the aisle of the bus toward the sitting area in the back.

"They definitely won't come back, right?" Michael asked—his nerves were slowly ebbing away. Being interrupted once had broken the ice, chipped it away so Michael was just eager to get his lips back on Jack's, and feeling pretty damn confident in himself, too. A locked door to the outside world and confirmation that they were the only two people on the bus did wonders for him, and his dick, apparently.

"Even if they do, I doubt they'd look for us here first," Jack said, sitting down on the bench seat of the couch and pulling off his shoes. Michael sat at the opposite end and did the same, only looking up when he was finished. He'd removed his socks too, so he stretched his legs out in front of him, flexing his toes and wiggling them.

Jack snickered, watching Michael, before sliding over the couch toward him, trapping Michael against the wall of the bus. Michael, surprising Jack and even surprising himself, hooked one hand around Jack's neck and pulled him close, closing the distance between their mouths right away, his lips parting against Jack's. Jack responded by turning to face Michael a bit more, ignoring how their legs between them did absolutely nothing to accommodate their positions, even hindering it a little bit, but he let his tongue move against Michael's, both of them closing their eyes and going just on touch and feeling. Michael's hands were exploring Jack's sides; Jack's right hand moved to Michael's neck again, thumb brushing over the soft skin, feeling his pulse stuttering beneath it, while his left slipped down to Michael's hip. Michael leaned back a bit, arching into Jack's touch, pulling Jack toward himself even though they weren't situated for that at all.

"Hold on, wait," Jack said, pulling away from Michael, his shirt slipping from the younger man's fingers. "Come here." He put both hands on Michael's hips, sliding his ass forward on the couch as Jack moved backward too. Once he deemed Michael reclined enough, Jack moved his hands, letting them trail down the fronts of Michael's thighs until he reached his knees, spreading his legs apart. He pushed Michael's left leg off the cushion, his foot landing on the floor, and his right against the back of the couch, so he could crawl forward, on top of Michael.

Michael watched, and once Jack's shoulders were within his reach, he took hold of them, impatient, wanting Jack's mouth back on his. Their lips met again, and this time, with Jack's weight on top of Michael, he could tell it was going to go somewhere. Jack let himself rest on Michael as they kissed, and Michael shamelessly rolled his hips up against Jack's, wanting the friction not only for himself, but for Jack too. Jack huffed a small laugh against Michael's cheek, not pulling away from kissing him as much as just moving where his mouth was landing with each kiss, lips trailing down from Michael's cheek to his jaw to his neck. The collar of his shirt was in the way, but that didn't really stop Jack from closing his lips over Michael's skin and sucking, just hard enough that he might have a slight bruise there. Michael sighed and leaned his head away, letting Jack take the lead.

They weren't quite ready to move on yet, Michael could tell by the way Jack moved back up from his neck, kissing him hungrily, Michael's small whimpers lost between them as he returned every kiss with just as much voracity. He used the leg that was still on the couch as leverage, lifting his hips up as often as he could to rub against Jack's front, need more pressure on his cock; he wasn't totally hard, not yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Jack moved on and his dick would betray him. Jack had barely even touched him anywhere near his crotch and he already had a fucking semi. So much for "very adult.”

"Sit up," Jack said, licking into Michael's mouth one final time before pushing himself up, situating himself on his knees between Michael's spread legs. Michael tried to move with him, not wanting to break the kiss; Jack allowed it for another moment, his hand moving over Michael's chest before he pulled away, holding Michael in place. He lowered his hand to the hem of Michael's shirt, tugging it up an inch or two. "I, uh—how far are you cool with going?"

Michael blinked. Twice. His lips parted, then closed again as he swallowed thickly. "Um. As far as—all the way? All the way. No regrets, just...uh, love." Why the hell could he not stop quoting song lyrics? He resisted giving Jack a thumbs up, but instead gave him a smile that he hoped was convincing enough for Jack to agree with him.

Apparently it was—Jack snickered but nodded and pulled his shirt off, dropping it onto the floor beside the small couch. Michael stared—he'd seen Jack shirtless before, he'd seen Jack in many varying states of undress before they were barely more than acquaintances, but this was completely different and Michael allowed himself to look at Jack's body, _really_ look at it, taking in how different he knew they looked. Jack was slender in places where Michael wasn't, and he actually liked the contrast between their two forms. Without waiting for Jack to ask, or do it himself, Michael pulled his shirt off too, and Jack's eyes swept over Michael's body just the same way Michael had looked at him—Michael felt a little proud that he'd elicited that kind of response from Jack, that he was interested in looking at him too.

Jack kissed him again, hands moving to Michael's sides as he assumed his position back on top of Michael. This time, when Jack's hips moved against his own, he could tell Jack was chubbing up just a little too. He grinned against Jack's mouth, moving his hands down over his back and then down to his ass. Jack clearly wasn't expecting it—he jerked his hips forward against Michael's and made a small noise, then laughed. Michael joined him, laughter tumbling from his chest easily as Jack leaned his forehead against Michael's, holding his gaze as he licked his lip before speaking.

"Mike—Michael," he said, stammering a little over his name, because Michael was still kneading his ass over his jeans, holding their hips together at the same time. The zipper of his jeans was pressed against the length of his dick, and he kind of needed to move, because it was almost like torture. "I wanna fucking taste you," Jack finally managed. He smirked when the rhythm of Michael's hips against his own faltered.

"Holy shit, yes," Michael said, voice thick with arousal. He moved his hands between them, undoing his jeans, but looking up at Jack. "You're gonna have to move or help me out of these."

Jack laughed but rolled off of Michael, undoing his own pants, pushing them down as Michael wriggled out of his jeans, clearly struggling a bit. His cock was arched up in the confines of his underwear, the bulge clearly visible now that his jeans were down around his knees, and Jack tugged them off the rest of the way, kneeling beside the couch. He palmed himself as he looked up at Michael; Michael looked down his own body at Jack.

"Go on," he said, smirking, his impatience getting the better of him. It was amazing how he no longer felt nervous now that Jack's face was inches from his dick.

"You go on," Jack said. "Turn over."

Michael stared for a moment. "What?"

"Turn over," Jack repeated, licking his lip. He raised one eyebrow; now he was the impatient one.

"Why?" Michael asked. "You said you wanted to t—"

"Taste you, yeah," Jack said. "So turn over." He was starting to look amused.

"I don't follow you," Michael said, feeling his cheeks warm a bit. What was he not getting?

Jack clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, putting his elbow on the couch, leaning his chin on his hand. "It's easier to eat your ass that way."

"Oh my god," Michael said, unintentionally moving his hands to cover his hard dick, like all of a sudden he had to hide himself from Jack, who had pretty much seen everything he needed to see. " _What_?"

"What?" Jack asked. "What did you think I meant?"

"I thought you meant my _dick_ ," Michael said, mouth open in disbelief, in shock. "I never—" he began, but stopped himself. He didn't want Jack to think he was inexperienced, because he really wasn't—well, except in the way of rimming, apparently.

But Jack's entire demeanor changed when Michael said those two words. He stopped looking so judgy and impatient and straightened up, still kneeling. "Ok, well, do you want to try it? It feels awesome."

And Michael, well. What was the point of hooking up with his celebrity crush if he didn't get all kinds of new doors opened for him? "All right."

"You wanna stop, just say the word," Jack said. "Now turn over."

Michael hesitated for another moment, then did as Jack told him. He carefully stood up, making sure not to kick Jack as he did, and then moved back onto the couch, facing the back wall of the bus. He looked over his shoulder at Jack, who nodded to him, reaching up to snap the elastic waist of Michael’s underwear against his skin. "Take ‘em off. I promise you this isn't the first time I've seen a guy naked."

"You are not as calming as you think you are," Michael said, but did it anyway, in one movement, the black fabric skimming down his thighs until they were situated around his knees. Jack moved one hand to Michael's back, pushing him forward so he was bent just slightly at the waist, leaning against the back of the couch, and then tugged on his underwear; Michael lifted his knees one at a time so Jack could pull his underwear off the rest of the way. Once he had discarded them, he moved his hands to Michael's thighs, nudging them apart.

"All right, ok—" Michael said, voice wavering. "Take it easy, I—this is..." he trailed off. 

Jack leaned to the side, looking up at Michael. "Hey," he said, quietly, and Michael turned to look down at him. "You wanna stop?"

Michael considered it, but really, he didn't. His dick was hard and Jack had promised that it felt good, so he just shook his head. "No. Do it."

Jack smirked up at him, then nodded, taking his place back behind Michael. He was just tall enough that he didn’t have to lean too far or position himself awkwardly—Michael’s ass was literally the perfect height for him. He smirked to himself as he lifted his hands to Michael’s ass, cupping either side of it in his palms as he spread his cheeks apart. Michael whimpered a little above him, and Jack paused again.

“Mike,” he said. “Level with me here.”

Michael didn’t look over his shoulder right away, but he took a breath and then looked down behind himself at Jack. “What?”

“Are you, like, totally new to the world of ass stuff? How much initiation do I have to do here?” Jack asked, trying and failing to keep the smirk off his lips.

“Oh my god,” Michael said, and he didn’t know how to respond, actually. Because the truth was he wasn’t new to the world of ass stuff (he made a mental note to always refer to all kinds of anal sexual activity as such from then on) but he’d never participated in a rimjob from either side, and half of the reason he was nervous to begin with was that Jack fucking Barakat was about to bury his face in his ass.

So, yeah. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I mean, it’s cool. It might feel a little weird at first, but—” Jack started, sounding a little too rehearsed ( _How many other people have been in this exact position with him?_ Michael mused to himself), so Michael cut him off.

“No, no, I have _definitely_ done...you know, I’m, uh. An ass world resident. Just never done...specifically this.” Michael tried to laugh a little, and Jack just nodded.

“It’s cool. I’ll teach you,” he said, and Michael’s jaw dropped the fuck open because _what, now_? Not only did Jack want to give, he wanted to receive, too? Michael opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t given the chance because Jack’s hands had moved back to his ass, spreading him open. His own breath hitched in his throat, making a sort of faint choking sound, when he felt Jack’s breath warm between his legs. It was an entirely new sensation from an entirely new angle, and Michael really thought he knew what to expect, until Jack’s tongue moved over him and he realized that he really didn’t, not even at all.

Because Jack’s tongue was slick and warm and _firm_ against him, licking up from his perineum straight to his lower back, and Michael fidgeted a little but at the same time craved more of it, because while it did feel a little weird, he wanted to feel it again. Jack repeated the same motion, this time letting the tip of his tongue work against Michael’s hole for a moment before pulling away, looking up at the back of Michael’s head for some indication of what he thought, or wanted. He replaced his tongue with the pad of his thumb and rubbed in a small circle over him.

This, Michael was a bit more used to, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of how good Jack’s tongue felt on him. He spread his knees apart, leaning further forward, resting his chin on his folded arms along the back of the couch. “Do it again.”

Jack lifted his thumb out of the way and leaned in again, tongue moving over Michael slowly, lapping at him gently. He hummed low in his throat and closed his eyes, letting the tip of his tongue trail over Michael’s hole before licking a long, flat stripe over it again. He could feel how tense Michael was, his thighs quivering just the tiniest bit from how tightly he was holding himself together, so Jack decided to take pity on him.

He moved one hand from Michael’s ass to his hip, softly rubbing him there as he continued licking Michael’s hole, working the flat side of his tongue over him. He wanted Michael to relax enough that Jack could fuck him with his tongue, stretch him out on the muscle and feel him from the inside. He wanted to make sure Michael was still into it, though, so he pulled away again. He left his hand on Michael’s hip, letting the thumb of his other hand slide up and down over his wet hole.

“How—” was all he managed before Michael’s head whipped around, meeting Jack’s eyes in an instant.

“Please keep going,” he moaned, arching his back, leaning his body to the side, pressing his hip harder against Jack’s hand. “Please,” he asked again, voice scratchy and low.

So Jack kept going, heeding Michael’s request, though this time he alternated between licking and rubbing with his finger. He was still tense, too tight for any part of Jack to move inside of him, so he relieved the tension the best way he knew how: He moved his hand from Michael’s hip to his cock, stroking it as soon as it was in his hand.

The difference in Michael’s body was staggering—his knees wobbled a little and his back arched again, bucking his hips forward into the tight circle of Jack’s fingers. He kept his pace slow, though, despite Michael’s best efforts to speed him up. He lowered his mouth, tongue moving against Michael and dipping inside of him just a little. He smirked, the apple of his cheek brushing against Michael’s ass. He kept his tongue moving over him, repeatedly, until he was able to work the tip inside of him.

Michael gasped above him like his breath had been violently punched from his body, feeling himself stretched on nothing more than Jack’s tongue. He wouldn’t have even considered that a possibility before, but now that it was happening, he fucking loved it. It was different than being spread open on fingers or a cock, and he was a little pissed at himself that he hadn’t ever thought to try rimming before. Because, seriously… _god damn_.

Jack licked his tongue just a bit further inside of Michael, pulling another moan from him; Michael rolled his hips, trying to fuck himself on Jack’s tongue and fuck Jack’s fist at the same time. Jack gave him what he wanted—he jerked Michael’s dick off quicker, moving with him as he rocked his hips back and forth. He pushed against Michael’s thigh with his shoulder, trying to keep him still as he fucked him with his tongue, flitting it in and out of his hole and drawing louder and louder gasps and groans from him until Jack could feel him trembling, ready to come any second. His leg was twitching against Jack’s arm, but he didn’t relent until Michael’s body tensed and then released, his come landing on Jack’s palm and the couch cushion beneath him, but still Jack kept moving his hand, a moan sounding in his own chest at just how tight Michael’s ass had gotten around his tongue. If Michael let Jack fuck him too, after all of this, he was going to do everything in his power to be sure that 5 Seconds of Summer toured with All Time Low, because the two of them could be fuckbuddies extraordinaire. 

Finally, Jack pulled away, wiping Michael’s jizz on the kid’s own thigh, before sitting back on his heels. He watched as Michael turned, slowly, his body still shivering. He moved to sit, gingerly, and faced Jack, looking down at him. Jack looked up, resisting moving because he wanted Michael’s verdict on ass eating before he had Michael give it the old college try. “Well?”

Michael’s face split into a wide grin, and his voice shook just a little when he spoke; he was still blissed out. “Holy shit,” was all he could manage, before laughing a little and sitting back, leaning against the back of the couch and staring up at the ceiling, the smile not leaving his face.

“So...passable?” Jack said, laughing, and Michael joined him, chuckling a little as he nodded.

“Yeah, it was all right,” he said as Jack crossed his arms and leaned them on the couch, next to Michael’s leg. He looked up at him, his cheek resting on his forearm, but stayed silent. “What?” Michael asked, rolling his head to the side to look at him.

“My turn?” Jack asked, and Michael couldn’t have resisted even if he wanted to—Jack looked so fucking cute in that moment, that he just nodded and stood up from the couch.

Jack pushed off the couch, standing up beside Michael before pushing his underwear down to step out of them. Michael didn’t mean to stare, but this was the first time he’d ever seen Jack’s dick in a context where he wasn’t only allowed to look but was free to ogle, and he definitely took advantage of it. His eyes zeroed in on it immediately, and he briefly considered asking Jack if he could just blow him instead, because he wanted his mouth on Jack’s cock _a lot_.

Before he could even broach the topic, however, Jack had turned away and climbed onto the couch, leaning over the back of it just like Michael had done. Michael looked over Jack’s back, his long, thin frame on display, back arched just a little. Michael steeled himself—he could do this. He could, and he would, and it would be fucking great.

He dropped to his knees behind Jack, who made a point to look over his shoulder and watch him. That made Michael feel even more nervous, but he didn’t ask Jack to stop—how else would he instruct Michael on what to do? He tried to imitate what Jack had done and put his hands on his asscheeks, spreading him apart, slow and unsure. He took a deep breath, then leaned in and barely let the tip of his tongue trace over Jack.

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done, but he was convinced right away that he had done it wrong. Jack hadn’t even reacted.

“Clifford,” Jack said. Michael looked up, meeting Jack’s eyes. His back was twisted a little, the muscles stretching beneath his skin. Jack held his gaze for a moment, then continued. “Look. This might be the gayest shit you’ve ever done but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you half-ass it.” He paused, considering what he’d just said. “No pun intended, but it kinda worked out.”

Michael snickered a little, grateful for the joke. He looked up at Jack, who gave him a small smile of encouragement.

“Use your whole tongue,” Jack suggested. “Like how I did.”

Michael nodded, then pulled Jack’s cheeks open again and leaned in, letting his tongue work over him, dragging it against his skin. This time, Jack hissed out a breath, laughing a little in pleasure after Michael pulled away.

“There you go,” he said, voice just edging on breathless. “Do that again.” Michael, feeling emboldened, licked Jack again, just as slow, his tongue moving over him slowly, flicking the tip of his tongue over his hole. Jack whimpered. “Again.”

Michael wasn’t sure which part Jack wanted repeated, so he did all of it again, the slow, languid movement upward, flicking his tongue quickly against his hole. Jack sighed heavily, turning away from Michael so he could lean his left arm along the back of the couch, just like Michael had done, but he lowered his right hand to his cock, stroking himself. He went as slow as Michael’s tongue was moving over him, wanting to let this last as long as he possibly could. Each time Michael started over, Jack gripped the base of his dick, working his palm up to the tip of his cock, precome leaking out onto his fingers. Then Michael would pull away, Jack would release himself, Michael would lick a slow stripe between his asscheeks again, and Jack would follow suit, starting his hand back down at the bottom of his cock again.

“Try—try just,” Jack started, but fell silent. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he hadn’t realized Michael had made him so breathless. He collected himself and stopped moving his hand over his dick—that probably wasn’t helping either. “Fuck, ok,” Jack went on. “Michael.”

“Hmm?” Michael hummed; he didn’t want to pull away.

“Can you just—can you try— _Michael_ ,” he said, and finally, Michael stopped licking him, looking up at Jack, who had angled himself to look at Michael behind him again.

“What?” Michael said, impatient. He thought Jack was enjoying himself. He sure fucking had been.

“Just try fucking me with your tongue,” Jack said, quickly. It wasn’t any less awkward asking for it even when he had over half a decade on his partner.

But the grin Michael gave Jack was lascivious, and he just nodded in reply, leaning back down. Jack saw only the top of Michael’s head but felt everything as Michael’s mouth moved back onto him, the tip of his tongue working against Jack’s hole, spreading him open and stretching him gradually as he fucked a bit further into him each time. Jack took a breath and began moving his hand over his dick again; normally, he tried to last a while, but he had reached the point where he didn’t give a fuck anymore. The sound of his fist working over his cock nearly drowned out the sound of Michael’s tongue fucking his hole, but he didn’t even care, didn’t need to hear it, probably couldn’t hear it anyway above the sound of his breath heaving out of his lungs, the small mewling noises he couldn’t help but make as he felt Michael’s fingertips pressing into his skin, holding him open as he fucked into Jack with no inhibitions.

He was spilling over his hand before he realized it, forehead resting against the back wall of the bus and moaning, just sounds and breaths until his body relaxed, and then he looked back over his shoulder at Michael, still on the floor, looking up at him. Jack wondered if he was waiting for more instruction. He smirked down at Michael, then stood up, making sure to navigate around him, until they were looking at each other directly. He didn’t miss how Michael’s eyes were trained on his dick.

“I’d tell you to take a picture, but your band doesn’t have the best track record with dick pics,” Jack said, and Michael actually snorted with laughter.

“I can’t even argue with that,” Michael said, shaking his head as he laughed. “But—”

Jack cut him off. “You want to fuck?” he asked. “For real?”

Michael hadn’t expected to be asked point blank, but he still felt his stomach do a little flip at the thought that they weren’t finished yet. He nodded and stood up, glancing down at Jack’s dick again before looking up at his face. Jack snickered. “Be right back.”

Turning on his heel, Jack padded softly away from Michael, ducking down to reach into his bunk when he approached it. Michael couldn’t see what he was doing, but he heard a zipper and some shuffling around, and then Jack was walking back toward him, his dick still half-hard.

Jack gestured toward the couch. “You mind doing it on your knees? It’s just easier that way, ‘specially back here.”

“‘S fine,” Michael agreed, stepping backward before turning away from Jack, facing the couch again and climbing on top of it for the second time that night. He heard Jack behind him, the sound of skin moving over skin, and knew he must be stroking his dick to get hard again. Michael resisted turning to watch, even though he desperately wanted to.

A bottle of lube and a condom were tossed onto the couch beside him, and barely a moment after, he felt Jack’s hand on his lower back, pushing down a little, angling his ass up. Two of Jack’s fingers trailed over his hole, one slipping inside of him to see how much more prep he needed; Michael whimpered softly, so Jack withdrew his finger and leaned over Michael, his cock brushing against the back of his thigh, and snatched the lube from where it had fallen. Jack flicked the bottle open and, tongue between his teeth for some extra concentration, squeezed some lube onto his fingers to coat them so he could coax Michael open a bit further for his dick.

Jack moved both of his hands between Michael’s legs, his dry fingers trailing up the inside of his thigh, his lubed-up fingers moving over his hole. He slipped one finger inside of him again, and Michael mewled at him, parting his legs a bit further as Jack pulled his finger out, then pushed it back in, fingering him slowly. He added a second finger after another few moments, scissoring them to stretch Michael more.

Michael’s fingers had curled in on his palms above where the heels of his hands were resting on the back of the couch. Jack’s fingers were deft and quick, but not too much for him to handle. He bit his lip and bowed his back, pushing back into Jack’s hand as he did.

“Almost there,” Jack muttered, trying to gauge if he used enough lube for a third finger or if Michael needed more. He leaned to the side, grasping for the discarded bottle and plucking it up from where it rested. Adding just a bit more lube, Jack moved a third finger inside of Michael, who stiffened slightly at the intrusion, but relaxed after Jack pet his hip and side, easing him through it.

Jack fucked Michael slowly, pushing his fingers all the way in before pulling them nearly all the way out, his fingertips never quite leaving the tight heat of Michael’s asshole. He didn’t stop until Michael was gasping his name, wanting more, wanting to be filled.

“Jack, man, please,” he begged, out of breath, nearly laughing at how desperate he was. “Just do it already, I’m ready.”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Jack pulled his fingers out, Michael’s hole open for him even without anything holding it that way. This time, when Jack leaned over Michael, he picked up the condom, tearing the wrapper and rolling it on. He teased Michael’s loose hole with the head of his dick before pushing it into him shallowly, letting just the head rest inside Michael, letting him get used to it, before he moved his hands to Michael’s hips and held him still as he worked on rolling his hips, pushing further into him with each thrust.

Michael moved his knees further apart as best he could, shifting his weight back and forth, doing his best not to disrupt the way Jack was moving into him. His breath came in short gasps and he glanced over his shoulder at Jack, whose eyes were closed, his teeth biting down on his lower lip as he fucked Michael, letting himself let go. Michael moved with Jack; he pulled away when Jack moved out of him, and when he moved in, Michael pushed back. Jack whined softly and tightened his grip on Michael’s hips, though he didn’t seem to want him to stop moving. He just wanted something to hold on to.

The sound of Jack’s hips slapping against Michael’s ass filled the back of the bus, along with Jack’s breathy groans and the small noises Michael was making, unintentionally whining and whimpering, small notes of pleasure spilling from him as Jack’s rhythm quickened. Michael wasn’t sure if he was close or if he just liked to fuck hard, but either way, he loved it. The push and pull of Jack behind him, inside him, was probably enough to get Michael off by itself, the hard length of his dick nudging at his prostate every few thrusts or so, but Michael didn’t want to leave that to chance. He lowered his hand to his dick, squeezing it and jerking himself off, fucking his fist as much as he could while keeping pace with Jack.

Jack felt Michael’s ass clench down on him when he took hold of his dick, and Jack moaned, faltering for a moment as he lowered himself down against Michael’s back, his mouth moving over Michael’s back, his shoulder, tongue tasting his sweat as it moved over him, giving him open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Michael whined Jack’s name, his fist tight around his dick, wet with his precome and he was very aware of the moment at which he broke to pieces against Jack’s front, his body coiling up and then snapping loose, come smearing all over his hand, his stomach, the couch below him, with Jack fucking his hole until he stuttered to a near-stop too. He ground his hips forward into Michael’s ass and thighs, wanting to be as deep in him as he could possibly be, finally letting out a breath against Michael’s shoulder.

Neither of them moved for a few moments, even though Jack felt like his legs were too shaky to stand properly anymore, and Michael was too hot to be entirely comfortable. Jack turned his face to the side, burying it in Michael’s messy hair for a moment and humming in contentment before he lifted his arms to the wall of the bus and used it for support as he slowly pulled out of Michael, who moaned absently as he did.

Jack moved back and away, removing the condom and disappearing into the bathroom for a moment to discard it. When he returned, Michael had shifted to sit on his knees, looking around for discarded clothing, trying to figure out where his had disappeared to.

“So,” Jack said, picking up a pair of black underwear from the floor and tossing them at Michael’s face; he caught them at just the last second, stood up briefly to step into them, then sat gingerly back down after he’d pulled them on.

“So what?” Michael said, though his heart was fucking pounding. Not like he expected anything from Jack, really, but...like, maybe they could sext sometime. That would be pretty cool. And he’d be so much more careful with any dick pics than Calum. For sure. He’d sign a fucking affidavit swearing it if it meant he got to fuck around with Jack again.

“I don’t even know,” Jack said, laughing, picking up his own underwear and putting them back on too, before swiping his sweater from the floor and shrugging that on. In just his underwear and the shirt, he looked ridiculous.

“Maybe we can do that again,” Michael said, trying to seem blasé, like Jack agreeing wouldn’t make his entire life.

“Yeah,” Jack said, nodding. He tugged the bottom of his sweater down around his thighs, and Michael laughed. “I am going to pull every string I can to get you guys to tour with us,” he finally said, even though he was kind of half kidding. “Because...seriously.”

Michael laughed before he realized Jack might actually mean it. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said. “And if the rest of your band fucks as good as you…”

“Dude, no way!” Michael said, sitting up straight, and then wincing and relaxing back into the corner where the couch met the bus wall. “If you fuck my band, I get to fuck yours.”

Jack laughed, then met Michael’s eyes, suddenly serious, like this was going to be some kind of challenge between them. Michael smirked and Jack knew he understood, he got it. This would be fun. Jack smirked. “Deal. You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to [Michelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacpages/) for being my beta on this fic.
> 
> Tumblr: [maybeillfindyouhere](http://maybeillfindyouhere.tumblr.com) • Come say hi!
> 
> _Title from "Dear Maria, Count Me In" by All Time Low._


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